The Guardian
by Kilonji
Summary: She swore she would protect him. And Kuchiki Rukia keeps her promises. AU, follow-up to Breaking the Girl and Full Circle.
1. A Strange Turn of Events

His sister Sadako, aged twenty-three, was engaged.

To be married.

Before he could properly comprehend the meaning of such turn of events, he was informed that his presence was required at two parties: One, thrown by his hyperactive and obsessive-compulsive mother, to celebrate the event with a few dozen of her closest friends and a pair or two of her worst enemies. The second party, to be attended only by six or seven of his sister's closed friends, was to be a much better one by his standards.

Kaiko was going to be there. She was a full three years his senior, small and slender, with ivory skin and eyes so deep and dark that he often imagined drowning in them—that is, when he had the nerve to get close enough to her to look her in the face. She had come home with Sadako from Hokkaido after the first term was over. Sasaki Kei, who had before then not paid much attention to females, was suddenly and irrevocably struck. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, from the oval tips of her fingers to her slender ankle. And so quiet, so solemn. A contemplative goddess. "All this from a fourteen year old," Sadako had snorted. "I should come back home to go to school; you're going to be overrun by repulsive girls if they find out what a pushover you are." Even though she did not make good on her threat, it was okay. The boy was steadfast in his one-sided love and even when he was swayed it was never for long. Not that he ever made his devotion known to the object of his affection.

"You're not slick, Kei-chan," Sadako sniffed as she grabbed a bag of chips and tore into them with un-womanly abandon. "She knows you like her already. The world won't implode if you say hello."

Kei grimaced. "I might," he said. He didn't bother to ask how his cover was blown.

"That would be pretty messy."

He scowled at her. "Easy for you to say. I'd think you'd be sympathetic."

She stepped behind his chair and hugged him. "_I_ know you're adorable. If she can't see that—and she _is_ a good friend, I mean this in the most affectionate way—fuck her."

He smiled. "You always look out for me, sis."

She kissed the back of his head. "Without you, Satoshi would be my only brother and I might have been driven to fratricide before we turned ten."

"Is he coming?"

"Who knows. Doesn't really matter as long as he comes to Mother's party. Actually it would be a lot easier if he didn't show up. He's always showing off."

Kei chuckled. For as long as he could remember, he always felt like a middle child. Satoshi and Sadako, even though they were twins, despised each other. Possibly from birth. Had he not interceded in many of their spats, they would have become fistfights. This earned him Sadako's affection and Satoshi's enmity for some reason, although he was always careful never to pick a side. He wondered how it was even possible that they could be so different.

"Anyway, Kei-chan," Sadako said, settling into the chair across from him, "make sure you get back by ten. We're going to karaoke, so you'll need a ride."

"I might not be able to get away before then. I'll take the train," he said.

Sadako's eyes narrowed. "You're not on another vision quest, are you? Where will you be, at the museum?"

He shook a playful finger at her. "Don't worry about it. It's not like I run away from home every time I get restless."

"That doesn't mean that at some point you _won't_." She shoved another handful of chips into her mouth.

"I promise I won't do it until _after_ the wedding," he laughed.

She eyed him warily, swallowed, then broke into another trademark smile. "Just make sure you call." She paused. "_Tonight,_ not when you actually run away," she added.

The vision quest Sadako referred to was something of a family joke. His mother always referred to him as "artistic and dreamy," while his father merely shook his head and smiled. They were not surprised in the least when he failed to pass the Center Exam. In fact, to his chagrin, they'd been expecting it. His father, who seemed solemn but always had an amused glint in his eye, talked to him confidently. "You don't make serious decisions lightly," he said. "This is one that will affect the rest of your life. Take your time if you need it. I kinda like the idea of being able to call my son 'ronin'."

Kei could only be grateful they had that kind of faith in him. Because _he_ sure as hell didn't.

Which was why, after his shifts at a local restaurant ended, he tended to wander. There were few nights he actually went straight home from anywhere. He lingered in parks, loitered at the train station. Taking in the sights, smelling the air, hoping it would quell the restlessness that was slowly taking over. And he had always been restless. For as long as he could remember.

He blamed the gone people. Nagano was teeming with them, people who were there but somehow weren't. Kei often wondered if other places had the same problem, or if it was merely a localized infestation. When he was much smaller they never paid any attention to him. He would watch and they would simply go about their business; he would point them out to Satoshi and Sadako and they both reacted incredulously. Satoshi, of course, was much meaner about it.

Later, every once in a while, Kei would manage to get one of the gone people to talk to him. At times the ones who appeared elderly would tell him stories: some short, some long and detailed. Others, usually younger, would comment on the weather, or his clothes. And then they would wander off, their edges blurred. His skin would prickle long after they were gone.

He grew up aware that he was special. No one else seemed able to see them, talk to them. But the reactions of his siblings made him secretive; he never even attempted to tell his parents. As a teenager, anxious and unnerved, he spent hours poring over books about ghosts, psychics, psychic phenomena. He never found the answers he was looking for and eventually gave up. But that seemed like a lifetime ago. A year out of high school and he was going about his life as normally as he could. Only he'd stop or be stopped by one of the gone people from time to time and spend a moment chatting. They still had interesting stories to tell, after all.

The one on the train tonight in the seat in front of him, however, didn't. Thirty-ish and balding, he looked at his watch often and demanded to know everything Kei knew about the current state of the stock market. When Kei only shrugged, the man groaned exasperatedly and turned around in his seat. After a moment or two he would begin to fidget, turn around and begin firing off questions again. Even though they were alone in the train car, Kei deemed it safer not to indulge the man and remained silent.

That is, until they heard the roar. The first time, Kei could hardly be sure he heard it. It was faint and high-pitched, but the businessman jumped, clutching his briefcase to his chest and looking around wildly. Kei was about to ask him what the sound was when they heard it again: louder, and closer.

The door at the back of the train car slid open and a girl stepped inside. She sat in the back row closest to the door, her eyes forward. An errant strand of jetty hair hung between her large, violet eyes. Just as her gaze fell on him, Kei felt his skin prickling. Then the front row of seats collapsed in—or were bashed in—by some unseen force. Then the next row. And the one after that. And the roar was now ear-splitting.

So was the businessman's scream. Kei blinked and looked back at the girl.

Now there were two of them, twins. The first was wide-eyed and exited, still sitting in her seat. The other was in dark, old-fashioned clothes, a white cape with black diamonds etched along the bottom over them. And she was holding a sword. Before Kei could ponder where the sword-bearing second came from, she was moving forward—so fast it barely seemed her legs were moving at all. The blur that was crushing the seats—he could see the edges of its form and it was huge, inhuman and had sharp, blood-stained teeth. And a huge hole in its chest. The businessman continued to shriek and Kei covered his eyes. _This isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening_

There was a cry, not unlike the war-cries you'd hear in old movies, and a resounding _crack_. And the roar, just picking up, faded. Kei swallowed and uncovered his eyes. The monster was gone. The girl was already striding back toward her twin. No. She stopped in front of the businessman, eyed him impassively, then took her sword out again. The businessman whimpered and cringed.

"Stop!" Kei yelled, launching out of his seat. "He didn't do anything wrong!"

The girl looked at him, violet eyes narrow. "I know that," she said calmly. Then she tapped the businessman's forehead with the end of her sword—the dull end. It left a character where it landed, but it was already fading. Kei could only watch as the man closed his eyes and faded into nothing. He looked at her in horror. "What did you do?"

She tilted her head, examining him. "What is your name?"

"What did you do to him?" he asked again, his voice unwittingly higher.

"I helped him to cross over. It was no good for him to stay here. What is your name?" The last words were slower in a way that conveyed she was unwilling to accept anything but an answer from him.

"Sasaki Kei," he said.

She gazed at him, as if looking for something. "My name is Kuchiki Rukia," she said. "We need to talk."


	2. A Journey, Interrupted

To his credit, the boy did not panic. Nor did he become difficult and refuse to leave the train with her at the next stop as she requested. She sat beside him, Shirayuki slung awkwardly between her legs, hands folded in her lap as primly as she could manage. Otherwise, they might be shaking. Her eyes never left his wide, startled brown ones. "There is much I need to tell you," she said. "And there is something I need you do do, something only you can accomplish. Your safety hinges on your compliance. I am not here to harm you."

The boy's eyes slid downward to her sword and dragged themselves back to her face. "Kuchiki Rukia. What was that thing?" _And how did you kill it?_ he did not ask.

"It was a hollow," the voice from the back of the train car chimed in. "It eats souls. Pyon."

Rukia shot her a look and the girl who looked exactly like her cringed in her seat. "I'll be quiet, Rukia-sama."

Rukia shook her head, both amused and exasperated. "I know you don't like being still, Chappy. I just need you to be patient with me." She turned back to the boy. "Like she said, the creature was a hollow. It feeds on souls, mostly, and the occasional human. According to the information I have gathered, there have been attacks on people like you. I came to protect you, and to bring you someone who can help."

The boy swallowed. "What do you mean, people like me?"

"People who can see spirits. Like the businessman who just left. And me."

"You're a spirit? You mean you're—_dead_?"

She sighed. "For almost two centuries now, yes. But I have work. I help souls to cross over, and defend them from—"

"Hollows," the boy murmured. She could not tell at all if he believed her or not, if he was just biding his time to break free of her and run for the hills. It did not surprise her at all that he was next to impossible to read. She supposed some things simply _carried over._

"Yes."

The boy nodded, his eyes still wide. He opened his mouth to say something when the train screeched to a halt.

She looked at him. He bit his lip, nodding to himself. "I know somewhere we can go and talk," he said. "I have more questions." The curiosity had already driven out his fear. _This could be a good thing_, she mused to herself as they left the station with Chappy in tow.

She observed him cautiously as they walked along an already deserted street. He was not terribly tall and seemed given to huskiness. Despite that, he moved like wind, his stride was smooth and agile as if his every step was half a dance. A self-conscious ballerina. His hair was a shiny black and his eyes reminded her of a baby seal: bright, dark and inquisitive. So much a soul can change. Even if he was scared—and she was certain he was—his search for answers dominated his actions. As they walked together in silence, she remembered ruefully that she was in his place, not too long ago.

She was completely aware, at the time she requested and began receiving the reports, that certain members of the twelfth squad were aptly assessed as "shifty." Perhaps it was some kind of runoff contamination, a guilt-by-association vibe she got from them. What kind of people willingly worked for Kurotsuchi Mayuri anyway? Had she not been desperate for the information, she would not have bothered. She always got the written debriefings in a timely manner and with the civility that was due her rank.

But in the end it did not matter. The attacks, according to testimony coming from other divisions, were happening more often and there was no denying that as they grew more frequent, they also grew more vicious. She saw the latest victim with her own eyes. Body ripped to shreds, soul devoured. It shook her to the core to see it, even if she willed herself to be impassive in front of her shocked and horrified subordinates. It was at the time of this last death that she knew she had to do something.

The decision to act was the easy part. Formulating a plan that would allow her to follow through was considerably trickier. She was depended on. She was always punctual, always the kind others relied on. Her absence, even if it were as brief as a few hours, would be noticed. If not by her squad, then by her brother. Or her friends. Or her husband. The most she could hope for was to slip away and move quickly enough that by the time she was noticed, she'd be too far away for anyone to do anything about it. Once she had her plans solid in her mind, she set to work. Her top seated officers, each one of them faithful to the core, were told she would undertake a personal mission in the living world. Due to the nature of this mission, their secrecy was desired. Each of them swore without hesitation to conceal her activity for as long as possible, even though none of them knew what exactly it was. Satisfied with this, she set Kiyone in charge and moved on to the fourth division compound.

For once, Unohana was not expecting her. "Kuchiki-taichou, what a pleasant surprise," she said when the woman arrived at her office. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Please, sit."

"I'm sorry, Unohana-san. I need to ask a favor. And maybe for a little information."

Unohana's usually sunny expression went a shade darker. "Is this regarding the recent attacks in the living world?"  
"It is. I need to know where he is. I can't leave him unprotected in this."

"He is still in Nagano, Kuchiki-san. That much I can tell you with certainty. However, there's something else I've noticed."

"Go ahead?"

"The attacks may seem random, but from what I've heard and noticed, many of the victims had something in common. High reiatsu. Specifically, many of those attacked were shinigami while they were here."

The captain could only blink as the news settled in, mixed, synthesized with what she already knew. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Has Hitsugaya-taichou been here already?"

"He has not."

"Unohana-taichou, could you pass this information to him as well? He'll want to know."

"I don't mean to be rude, but do you not have time to tell him yourself?" _So he can go with you_, the older woman did not say.

The fourth squad captain's peace-loving nature was again dominating her actions. Captain Hitsugaya Toushirou was the last person Rukia wanted at her side. She had no interest in tempting fate, after all. "You're right," she said. "Time is of the essence here; I'll send a hell butterfly as soon as I can. But in the meantime, could you please forget you saw me today?"

"I won't forget, but I won't tell, either. Good luck, Rukia-chan."

The captain smiled grimly at her. "Thanks."

All things considered, it was moving along much more smoothly than she'd anticipated. He pointed out a coffee bar; she nodded and excused herself as soon as they were inside. After she managed to slip back into the gigai, she moved to sit in front of him at a small table adjacent to the window. She didn't know which pleased her more: The fact that he was still there, or the cup of cocoa he had waiting for her. He even blushed a little when she looked at him questioningly. "Girls like chocolate, right?" he asked, nervously running a hand through his short, shiny hair.

"Thank you," she said, sipping at the cocoa. "You said you had questions."

He coughed a little, then leaned in close."I know it's not normal for me to see the gone pe—spirits. But you make it sound like it's dangerous. I've seen them all my life. Why is it like this all of a sudden?"

"First off," she whispered back, "it _is_ normal for you. You have a special ability. It's only that most other people don't. And as far as the attacks, we have not determined a cause just yet."

He blinked, sitting back. "Others have been attacked?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes. I won't sugar coat this, it won't do you any good. Others were attacked, and some were killed. I have no intention of letting that happen to you."

"Ah," he nodded, though he didn't seem completely reassured.

"If we leave for Karakura as soon as possible I can bring you to someone who can help you to control it, make it so you're not noticeable—"

"Wait—that's hours away. I can't just up and leave, my sister is getting married." His brow furrowed just a little bit.

"Tonight?"

"No. But she was going to have a get-together tonight and she'll skin me alive if I'm not there."

"There will be other get-togethers, Sasaki-kun. Your life is more important than this one."

He leaned closer and began to plead like a child for candy. "Just a couple hours' delay, Rukia-san? I'll go wherever you want me to, but can it wait just a little while?" And then he did it. He pursed his lips first, then came that _smile_, that rumored, radiant smile she'd forgotten about until now. And it wasn't even malevolent. "Besides, if _you're_ there to protect me, I've got nothing to fear, do I?"

She could only blink at him. _So,_ a voice at the back of her mind snorted, _he hasn't really changed all that much, has he?_

This was how she found herself as Sasaki Kei's escort to Sasaki Sadako's private engagement party.


	3. End of Innocence

He was a quiet kind of boy. _Barely a boy anymore,_ she thought to herself. Almost twenty and still treated like a precious baby brother.

Rukia stood aside as Kei's sister launched herself at him with a giddy, infectious laugh. Her smile was nothing if not affectionate, and her eyes were shining with clear adoration.

Almost as if she didn't think he would come.

Rukia grimaced to herself when her own brother crossed her mind at this point. Sadako's enthusiasm, though the exact opposite of what she experienced with Byakuya, was somehow eerily similar in sentiment. Byakuya had kept her at arm's length out of propriety, but he had always been watching with what she later realized were wary and concerned eyes. And sometimes, when she saw him after Ichigo saved her, Byakuya was genuinely pleased to see her and did not care who knew it. This was the light that was reflecting back from Sadako's eyes as she pushed her fiancée forward to shake hands with Kei and his sudden, unexpected date. Rukia smiled her best smile and proceeded to blend into the background as the people—the couple and some dozen or so others—proceeded to belt out old Motley Crew songs in their best hammed-up voices.

Kei sat beside her, smiling. "They're all high school and college friends of theirs," he said. "Sadako's always been popular."

"You say that as if you weren't," Rukia chucked.

"I wasn't," Kei said. "I was never the type that attracted people." He didn't seem upset about it. "Except the gone people, anyway."

"You've seen them all your life?"

"Most of it. But you're the first shinigami I've seen."

Rukia nodded at him. "I've only met a few other humans who could do it. One of them," she added ruefully, "was so irritated by it he kicked me."

"Why would he do that? Weren't you protecting him?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, I was."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes, he is," she laughed.

"Kei, come on now the guys need you to sing like George Harrison," Sadako breathed as she sat next to Rukia.

Kei looked at Rukia. "Go on. I don't know you well enough to betray you," she said. He took his place at the microphone and began to help in the mangling of "Twist and Shout."

"You're pretty cute," Sadako said. "What are you doing with my brother?"

If Rukia had been drinking anything, it would have come out of her nose. "_Huh?_" she managed to sputter as Sadako half gasped, half chuckled.

"I didn't know he knew any cute girls," Sadako said. "And I totally didn't expect him to turn up here with a date."

"Oh—" Rukia plastered her best surprised look onto her face. "I'm new in town and I don't know anybody, really. Your brother was nice enough to invite me out."

Sadako's eyes narrowed. "How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Where are you from?"

"Karakura, originally."

"You're going to school here?"

"No." Rukia paused, swallowing. "I didn't know what I wanted to do, so I kind of just ran away from home. To figure out what I want, you see." She watched with satisfaction as the look on Sadako's face shifted from suspicion to understanding and, finally, sympathy. _Still got it_, Rukia thought. Acting had always been her forte.

"Well," Sadako said, settling back in her seat, "Kei's always been a good guy. And kinda confused himself. Maybe you'll help each other out."

"I'm pretty sure we will," Rukia smiled at her. "He's always seemed really—how do I say it?—_genuine_ to me."

"Genuine," Sadako echoed, staring at the boy in question. "Yeah, he is. What you see is pretty much what you get with him."

"What, he's not a womanizing creep under the lamb suit?"

Sadako guffawed. "He might be, but as far as I know there's only _one_ woman he wanted to womanize."

Rukia perked up. "A rival? Oohh, he's even cuter now."

Sadako shook her head. "He never confessed to her. I thought maybe he would tonight, but I guess it's just as well she didn't come. It was just a boyhood crush he never got over, anyway. But in any case, I guess I'll tell you the standard disclaimer."

"Disclaimer?"

"You break him, I break _you_," Sadako chuckled into her beer. She was as serious as a heart attack.

"I'll do my best to take good care of him," Rukia promised. She was just as serious.

They both looked at Kei where he was now alone at the microphone, bleating some Michael Bolton song neither of them knew. "Cheesy," Rukia snickered.

"Provolone, totally," Sadako agreed. They glanced at each other and nodded amiably.

The group dispersed sometime around one in the morning. Sadako offered her brother a ride, which he politely refused after glancing at Rukia and seeing her shake her head with a simpering smirk. Sadako giggled herself, gave her brother one last hug, and vanished with her fiancée into the dark. Kei blinked. "Oh God, what did you tell her?" he hissed at the shinigami after his sister was out of earshot.

"I didn't tell her anything," Rukia said, turning and striding in the general direction of the train station. "She asked me some questions and I answered them. None of them were about me hooking up with you. . . not specifically."

The boy gave an exasperated sigh."Was it _implied_?"

"I never said I was going to. But if my answers led her in that direction, she was headed there anyway." Rukia pulled out her phone and gazed at it. "There's a sleeper train to Karakura in about half an hour. We can be there by morning. This is actually going a lot smoother than I thought it would—" she turned, looked back at the boy, who was staring at her with a face awash in horror.

"Kaiko's gonna call her and my sister'll tell her I brought a _girl _to her party," he said hoarsely. "I have to call her."

"Kaiko? Is this the boyhood crush?" She scanned, him, shook her head. "You can call her from the train. That way she's not worried and this girl you have a crush on is none the wiser."

"It's not a crush!"

"Well whatever it is," Rukia said sternly, "It's irrelevant if you don't live past next week."

He could only stare at her. He hadn't been stalling by insisting to go to his sister's party. But somehow Rukia's expression brought the situation back to the front of his mind. He hadn't meant to forget, had he? He was in danger. And as far as he knew, Rukia was his only chance. It still seemed so unreal. . .

. . . and continued to feel unreal as he sat in a wide seat facing Rukia on the train. She was staring intently into her phone and spoke little. His own phone was in his pocket. He no longer wanted to call Sadako. He had no idea what to say. He stared out of the window dejectedly and began to nod off.

And then suddenly wasn't where he was before.

It was a white, sterile place. He was gazing into a cup of tea as a calm, deep voice murmured something. He did not know what the voice was saying; it was all a jumble. But it was so lulling. So lulling that he was still nodding off where he sat. Then someone said that name.

"And what are you thinking, Ichimaru Gin?"

His eyes opened, focusing on the smiling, slit-eyed face in the tea that wasn't his. Kei's heart lurched when he answered, "Nothin' at all, Aizen-sama" in a voice that was not his own and looked up—into the intent faces of a group of hollows. They all returned his gaze with contempt.

"Liars," said the voice, "are unacceptable in our ranks. I thought better of you. But perhaps my good faith was displaced. Please leave this table."

He nodded, reveling in the relief he seemed to feel even though he had no idea what caused it.

"No, Gin," the voice said. "You should know better. You don't get to leave in peace."

And the hollows were upon him before he could even draw a breath in his own defense.

But he woke up then, his heart pounding and a knot in his stomach. Rukia had finished with her phone and was dozing in her seat. He decided it would be best to let her sleep. But her eyes opened, sharp and intense. "Kei," she said, rising and pulling out a something that looked like a pez dispenser with a rabbit's head. "Stay here. There's something coming."

Suddenly there were two of her again. The one in the white cloak strode off, drawing her sword. Kei's eyes followed after her. He could feel it too, just like the one before. But now, suddenly, he knew he had no right to cover his eyes. He watched as it materialized in front of her, unseen and unknown to the dozen or so passengers. It was human enough, with a long, scowling face and a cap made of bone that covered half its head. Rukia stood before it, a different person. "If you want him," she growled, "You come through me first."

It advanced on her.

And the night went mad.

* * *

**A/N:** I've always had problems getting from point A to point B. Consider it a flaw I've been working on. But in case this chapter didn't make it horribly obvious, I'm just as anxious to get to some action as the rest of you. 

Let the games begin :)


	4. All Stop

She was no stranger to fighting. The challenge she forced through her grimace was one she could easily back up. She looked the hollow up and down, calculating, determining her method of attack. Its reiatsu was weak enough to one who had faced espada. While it was clearly an arrankar, the bloodlust in its eyes betrayed no hint of logic. There was nothing there but cold fury, aimed at the boy behind her. So. The rest of the attacks had been random hits in hopes of hitting a mark, and this one had glimpsed the elusive bull's-eye.

She stood still, watching, waiting. It wanted to make a move, that much was obvious. But it was having trouble deciding how it would get at its prey though a shinigami. A rattling breath rasped from under its mask. "Shinigami. I will kill you," it said. But it did not move closer.

"I give you leave to try your best," Rukia replied. And waited.

Behind her, Kei audibly gasped.

They were in a narrow, enclosed space surrounded by people. Even if none of them could hear the battle that was taking its sweet time to begin, they would certainly see and feel any force exerted on them or their surroundings. And Kei—poor innocent thing!—was likely to cry out if she was hit. Having Chappy restrain him would only cause a commotion. She looked back at the gigai. "Chappy. Take him out of here. We're getting off at the next stop."

"Rukia-sama—"

"Go!" The boy did not need to see this. But also, and more importantly, the threat of losing its prey was enough to make the arrankar act. He lunged forward, almost clumsily, great taloned hands aimed at her neck. One swipe of her sword was enough to separate those hands from him. Rukia listened for the opening and closing of the cabin door. After the two were gone, she fixed the hollow with a hard, cold stare. "Who sent you?"

It moaned, eyes rolling in its head. The bloodied stumps of its wrists flailed like fish on sand. She sliced at its leg, causing another howl. _"Who sent you?"_

It took a breath. _"All enemies and traitors to Aizen-sama must di—" _

She sliced its head open before it could get the last word out. As it faded from view she turned and strode towards the door. Damn. She was sick of fighting on trains. This was a bad idea to begin with. She cursed her anxiety. Had she not been rushing herself after Kei's determined detour, she would have thought differently of taking a train in the first place. Certainly Kei was already plenty shocked and amazed. He could withstand a little more of it, for the sake of his own life. Urahara could have met her in Nagano, maybe. She rolled her eyes at the thought of groveling on the phone, but it would have been—and probably would be—worth it. Anything to end this.

As she slipped through the door without opening it, she thought immediately that she needed to call Karakura. But Chappy had her phone. She sighed and made her way into the back. She could feel him now, a thin but steady reiatsu—nothing even close to what Ichigo radiated when she met him—but strong enough to draw attention. It had jumped just that much since she found Kei. This could not be good. That one had found them through pure luck. The next one would not be fortunate—it would be smart. And just as determined, if not more. She was lost in this horrifying thought when she came face-to-face with the target himself, wide-eyed and panicked. He gripped her shoulders, scanning her. "You're not—hurt," he murmured.

Rukia willed herself to be still, scanning the cabin. They were alone, thank the heavens. Kei could have his little meltdown, she'd calm him, and they could be on their way. . .She remembered the alarmed looks she used to get from Renji—who was always afraid to touch her—and then the scowling gratitude she got from Ichigo, who would just as soon smack her for being reckless as he would look at her. But this was different. The boy barely knew her, was aware only that she was the thing that stood between him and untold horrors. But his concern was not for himself and it was etched into his unsmiling face. "You shouldn't take risks that'll get you hurt," he said, biting his lip. "Couldn't we have just run?"

"You need to have a little faith in me," she said, suddenly defensive. "Do you honestly think I would make a promise to protect you if I could not do it?"

He gaped at her. "But it was so huge. . ."

". . . and I'm so tiny?" She shook her head. True power and skill make up for these things. Most boys know that." She looked at Chappy, who was zoning out at the window. "I need the communicator."

The gigai jumped, scrambled forward. "Here, Rukia-sama."

Flipping the phone open, she turned away. "This is Kuchiki Rukia, Mark one three four zero two. Please calculate my location and direct me to the nearest safehouse."

The tinny voice on the other end paused and there was a brief tapping. "We are happy to assist you, Kuchiki-taichou. The nearest way station is forty kilometers to the north. You are currently traveling south. The closest to the south is approximately sixty kilometers. Shall I arrange for a transfer?"

"Yes. Myself and two others. One gigai, one human."

"Very good, Kuchiki-taichou. We will initiate relocation in ninety seconds. Please gather your party."

"Thank you." Rukia glanced up into Kei's questioning face. "Come close to me. We are being sent to a safehouse. You too, Chappy."

The gigai bounced happily over. "I love these," she beamed.

"Please don't tell me they're going to _beam_ us somewhere," Kei said, perilously close to whining. Concern one minute, derision in the next. Rukia swore inwardly that aside from Ichigo, she had never known someone so moody.

"Beam us? No, it's just a shift. Yes, it's new technology but it's perfectly safe," Rukia replied.

"How conveniently Star Trek," Kei sniffed.

Rukia's stomach lurched. It was beginning. "Just close your eyes," she said irritably. She closed her own without verifying if the order was obeyed. She did not use this method often—in fact she hated it. But perhaps it was the stink of Mayuri's hand in it that made her distrustful of it. But the sheer convenience of it had served Soul Society well. Mayuri's team had so perfected it that large groups could be moved as far as Hueco Mundo in a mere instant—an advantage that was indispensable by the end of the Winter War. Still, it made her a bit queasy. Fortunately it was over quickly; when she heard the crickets and not the clatter of the train's movement, she opened her eyes. "Transfer is completed," the voice from the phone said. "Please remember to complete your usage log at the time of your departure."

Kei and Chappy were already headed towards the small house that occupied an open field on the edge of what looked like a forest. Rukia took a few breaths to calm her stomach and followed after them. She needed to have her head clear, considering what she was about to do.

It was time to call Urahara.


	5. Eyes of the Beast

The singsong voice on the other end could not be clearer in its disdain. Or its amusement. "You do realize, Kuchiki-taichou, that your actions have been somewhat rash and have only made matters worse."

Rukia squeezed her eyes shut, fingers pinching her temple. "I did not call you for an assessment."

"No, you called me for help. Did it ever occur to you to contact me prior to abandoning your post and rushing haphazardly in to play Little Asian Dead Chick Rambo?"

Of course it did not. The key was to appear on his doorstep with a human boy he'd find pitiful and then grudgingly accept his ample and willing help. That way, at least, she came out of it with a shred of dignity.

But things did not go as planned and Urahara Kisuke had no generosity to spare; with the precision of the true predator he was, he went right in for the kill. "I understand you have a package you would like sealed. Has the package been made aware of the real reasons you wish to seal it?"

From her vantage point at the kitchen table, Rukia craned her head to scan the sparse room adjoining it to verify Kei's presence. He was slumped against the wall, dozing. It was barely dawn, he'd been up all night. Of course he was exhausted. Chappy was laying out a futon for him. "I have only told him what it was necessary for him to know," she said, lowering her voice.

"The process will require activating him fully Kuchiki-san. If that soul is still clinging to some of Ichimaru Gin's memories, it may not go well for you."

"Why would he still have the memories? I thought—"

"You assumed reincarnation would be enough to purge Ichimaru. That's seldom true. Strong spirit power often takes longer than forty years to cleanse itself, as opposed to one or two years for a normal soul. The boy has been alive for less than half that time. A terribly inconvenient fact, but there it is. I cannot say what he will recall, but I am fairly certain he will recall _something_. Are you prepared for that?"

"I will be," she said.

There was a pause. The cheerful lilt was gone. "Kuchiki Rukia, we create our own hells. I had no idea that you missed yours so much."

"Just get here," she said before she hung up on him. And there it was. The feeling slowly creeping up on her, heavy like a coming storm. She looked over at the boy, the alarm slowly rising in her. His eyelids were twitching.

* * *

_Ulquiorra had beautiful, sad eyes. Kei had told himself this more than once; the fact that they repulsed him was just something that came with the territory. He'd had his fill of beautiful boys, ones with golden hair and startled blue eyes, ones with pale skin and chestnut hair, and one in particular with huge aqua eyes that accused him everywhere he went. He loved and hated them all. But none were as inscrutable—and therefore horrifying to him—as the arrankar who sat across from him. Ulquiorra spoke little and breathed even less. His every drop was devoted to the pleasure of Aizen-sama. Or his displeasure. _

"_You allowed her to simply walk away." His tea was already cold. Cunning brown eyes stared Kei down; he resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. "You don't seem to take very good are of your pets, Gin."_

"_You had more time to train Momo," Kei said. "She was willing to stand still while you killed her."_

"_That is beside the point. You knew that child had fight in her and yet you untied her hands and challenged her to a game of tag. It was reckless, Gin. Was she worth it?"_

_The smile that was already on Kei's face grew wider. "Need you even ask?"_

_Ulquiorra blinked, slowly, but remained silent. Aizen's eyes narrowed. "You've made small mistakes in the past, Gin. Be sure you do not become too comfortable with it." Aizen returned to his cold tea. This was as good as a dismissal. Kei pushed back in his chair, stood, bowed, and left the presence of his savior._

_But the beautiful boy was on his heels. There was no need for him to hide himself. He was a spy through and through and everyone knew better to confide in him. But Kei did not care about that. Ulquiorra, even with his cold demeanor, was vulnerable to suggestion. "You don't care much for me, I know," Kei said slowly, still smiling. "But you're curious, aren't you."_

_The espada remained still and silent, waiting._

"_I'll tell you," Kei said, coming close, grazing that ivory chin with his knuckles. "She was mine for that time. She was hurt and lost and her desperation was delicious. When I touched her, it was like stroking a tigress. At any moment she could turn and rend me, but she couldn't, because she was mine. And I had her, over and over again, felt her strain against me even though her body grew confused and might have even enjoyed the contact, any contact at all will do when you are as alone as I made her. And the blood she took from me was equal and less than the blood she gave me. She may live a thousand years and she'll never forget who owned her. Never. Perhaps a numb monster like you is beyond understanding or being able to enjoy something that simple." He stood back, scanned Ulquiorra's face for anything—horror, mirth, disdain._

_The green eyes closed and opened. The face betrayed no such things. "I am no less a monster than you are, Ichimaru Gin."_

_It was at this point that Kei wanted to wrap his hands around the arrankar's neck and squeeze. He could imagine it was Rukia; at least then he could enjoy it. It would have been a thrilling feeling if he dared it; sealed and perfected by the reflection of his own crimson eyes in Ulquiorra's mournful emerald ones.

* * *

_

Kei snapped awake. It was daylight. He gazed blearily down at the futon he had been moved to and the blanket that covered them both, but did not wonder about them. He could hear footsteps not too far away. He felt her before she entered the room. Before he could bid Rukia good morning he knew she had not slept at all. He took a breath. "You should get some sleep."

She glanced at him, half-startled. "No, thanks."

"You're exhausted."

"It will pass. Are you hungry?"

"No," Kei lied. "Did you get a hold of that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The one you said you needed to talk to."

"Oh. Yes, I did. He'll be along in a little bit."

"That's good." He paused, the dream still so vivid in his head. He did not know how to ask, but he had to. "Rukia. . ."

She tilted her head. "What?"

"Have you ever heard the name Ichimaru Gin?"

She twitched, just a little bit. Her lips parted, closed. She took a breath. "I have."

"Who was he?"

She turned away. "No one important." She was suddenly far from him. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

Kei's throat tightened. He did not know what reaction he'd expected from her, but he never thought she would lie.


	6. Spin

Someday the world would start spinning and she would feel unsafe again. Her mind was a treacherous thing to suggest it, but there it was. Even if the shadows only inhabited small parts of the world, attached to things bathed in light, they were still there. Waiting to swallow her up again. Years of hard living in Rukongai ingrained in her anticipation of the next misfortune. She has spent many years as a happy woman, perhaps happier than she deserved. But no state of being can last forever. She knew this since the day she spent under a watery sun with Hitsugaya-taichou, wishing for the wellbeing of a soul she half-despised. The days that followed were mostly golden, awash in love and comfort, but she always knew they would be interrupted, at some point. She did not know how or when; she knew only to watch for the signs and prepare as best as she could. She did a fair job of masking the apprehension, or thought she did. Perhaps Ichigo knew all along. Maybe even Renji. She was not ready that day when the past came scraping at her door. Had it been the wolf itself, she would have handled it better.

But Kei was a different story. He was not the wolf, but the cave in which the beast slept, now slowly coming awake, bleary but growing more alert every moment. Soon, it would eat its way out of its cage and Kei would not be there. If was not put down in time, maybe never again.

His eyes followed her as she moved back and forth and around the little house, and she could feel her skin crawl within the gigai. That name was an itching feeling in her head, and she cannot shake it loose as she would a pebble in her shoe. Gin. Back. Here? Now? Before Urahara could get there and do his little morally ambiguous magic? Buried within that solid, shorter body, behind the softer eyes. Germinating like a virus. He had not said much to her since that morning, when she evaded his question with the worst kind of lie. He was antsy and just as anxious as she was, and not knowing completely why made it a thousand times worse. What could she possibly tell him? What words would be appropriate? Even if she had any, they would never do. For the obvious reasons.

She scowled at the house. She had done her best to entertain him; his impatience was rapidly pushing to the surface and finally he declared he had played enough card games and went somewhere upstairs to sulk. It was the tiny spark of relief she felt when he left her that drove Rukia outdoors. Pyon she had left inside to watch over him. She could not admit it, even to herself, but she needed to be away from the boy. She could not stand the thought of him looking at her and knowing. It seemed he knew too much already. Would this affect Urahara's sealing method? If it did, how would Urahara deal with it? Would he deal with it? Or would he just turn to Rukia with that smug face and say, "Here's what you wanted, sweetheart, now handle it"? Damned old man.

She scanned the horizon. The sky was rapidly closing in with dark clouds. She could smell the rain and for once, it did not comfort her. The safehouse was located in a fairly desolate area; the nearest building was just a speck to her left. She did not see a vehicle there, either; perhaps it was vacant? That would not be bad. In any case, she had already checked the barrier around the safehouse, and though it had clearly been there for a while, it was fairly strong. It would take a powerful hollow to get through that. . .

Her nerves jangled. She turned to look back toward the house as Kei stretched in the doorway. His hair was a mess. So. He was not exaggerating when he'd called himself lazy before.

She smiled at him brightly. "Did you sleep well?"

He stepped off the porch, head angled in such an extreme direction she could hear it pop. "Okay, I guess," he said. "Where are we anyway? There isn't much in that kitchen."

"Sorry about that. It's unusual for anyone to stay here overnight. But do you need to have breakfast food? There's got to at least be some instant ramen in there."

The boy groaned.

The back of her mind was slowly flooding with red. Of all things, a picky eater too? Urahara couldn't get here soon enough . . .then her phone buzzed. She looked over at the boy, whose expression had gone from groggy and irritable to interested in no time at all. She dug the phone out of her hakama and gazed at it.

It was not Urahara. She flipped the phone closed and looked at the boy. "Get inside," she said as she walked slowly and deliberately towards the barrier.

"But what's—"

"Just _go_." She raised her voice only enough to convince him of her seriousness. But she did not look back to make sure he went. Her eyes narrowed. Whatever it was, she could not allow it to get any closer. Not to her, not to Pyon, not to Kei. Her right hand wandered to the hilt of Sode no Shirayuki and she braced herself.

A moment passed, and another. She closed her eyes and focused. It was circling. Looking for a weak point. Absently, her feet followed its scent. A wide circle around the house, pushing in random spots. Poking. Her breath slowed and she counted the seconds in heartbeats. She could hear it. Shuffle. Poke. Shuffle. Poke.

And then the tearing. The reiatsu seeped though like a trickle of water through a fingerhole in a dam. And the flood was coming. The pressure on the broken spot increased. And then stopped. "Shinigami."

Raised her head. She could not afford to be fixated on the one spot. It could still come from anywhere. _Anywhere_.

"Shinigami." A pause. "Kuchiki Rukia. We need not fight. He belongs with us. _To_ us. Turn him over and we will leave."

The red started earlier by a petulant young man was now a burning crimson at the back of her brain. As if she would. . . as if. . . _but if she did_. . .

At her side her zanpaktou thrummed and crusted with ice. The smile slid onto her face unbidden. "Shirayuki. Forgive me," she murmured. She took a deep breath. "If you want him," she hissed, "come and get him."

She did not feel it, not at first. Nor did she see it. She only felt her own warm blood seeping through the gash at her waist. She scowled. It smarted. Bastard was playing with her. The red exploded into pure fury. She could sense its power. They were evenly matched. Nevermind the insult of not sending a more powerful hollow to deal with a captain. It would pay for underestimating her. She would make it.

"Rukia!"

"Kuchiki-sama!" She whirled to see both of them on the porch, their expressions horrified. Kei, his mouth agape, ready to scream something else—but nothing came out.

"Ichimaru Gin." The arrankar was barely as tall as the boy was, but held him aloft by the neck as if he were a kitten. Helpless, hopeless. The other taloned hand grazed the boy's neck. Blood dripped from the open wound. "Ichimaru Gin. How different you look."

Pyon launched herself at it. Even as she was flung away like a plastic bag, Rukia was launching herself forward, Shirayuki's ivory point aimed for the heart. "Contact Yamada Hanatarou of division four. Tell him I need him," she told the gigai. Rukia was aloft and insanely happy. A justified kill, an earned kill, not like the target practice on the train. And it had dared lay hands on her precious ward. She was going to carve it to pieces for tempting her that way. To tiny little bits.

The arrankar only half turned, its fingers still wrapped around Kei's neck. The yellow eyes beneath the mask slid to the gasping boy, then back to the shinigami closing in. It tossed the boy aside and moved forward. "I asked you politely, and you were rude," it said.

Rukia landed just inches away, but those few inches were too many. It tilted its head. "You are slow," it said. It began to raise its right hand.

"So you say." Shirayuki swung forward again. Rukia stepped lightly back and eyed the open gash on its chest. She raised an eyebrow in clear challenge.

"You wish to play?" it asked, the expression of innocence contorted by the mask, which covered all but its mouth, which was twisted into a sharp grin. "Have you no questions? Do you not wish to know why you are about to die?" And it was gone. And then beside her. The taloned hand landed on her chest and clenched. And then it was in front of her again.

Rukia took a deep breath. "You worthless thing," she murmured. "Run if you want. I don't need to catch you to kill you."

The arrankar tilted its head. Its mouth opened to speak again, but it choked. Rukia smiled at its shocked yellow eyes. "Sonido is nice, but you're too confident." Shirayuki slid upwards through mask, skull and all. As the arrankar faded from view, Rukia slid to her knees. Shirayuki clattered to the ground, white ribbon already gone. "I know, I know," Rukia murmured to her blade. "We were lucky. Thank you for indulging me." And then the ground rose up to meet her.

* * *

Kei opened his eyes to a gray sky, partially blocked by the ancient and dusty awning above the porch. And a wide pair of brown eyes. He gulped. His neck felt very stiff. The brown eyes disappeared and Pyon's cheerful face replaced them. "Kei-san!" He threw up his hands to deflect an embrace that would no doubt have finished the job that thing had come to do—he lurched upwards. "Rukia!"

"She is alive," came a voice. The brown eyes scanned him again. They were settled into a calm, round face attached to a body that was, for all its smallness, carrying Rukia inside.

Kei pulled himself to his feet to hold the door open. The brown-eyed man looked at him as he passed through. "Thanks," he said, heading for the living room and gently laying Rukia down on a mat. Kei made to follow him in, but Pyon snatched at his arm. He brushed her off and edged closer.

The man was kneeling over Rukia, eyes closed and lips moving, as if murmuring a prayer. She was completely still. Then the small man held his hands above her and a golden light poured from them.

Kei watched in astonishment as what seemed nearly dead began to stir.

"Hana-tarou. . ." her voice was barely a gasp. The small man leaned forward and took her bloody hand in his own.

"Rukia-san. I came as soon as I got your message." He scratched his head sheepishly. "A little late, I take it."

"No," she murmured, gazing at Kei where he stood frozen and frightened a few feet away. "You came right on time." She closed her eyes. The small man paused only for a second before calmly, deliberately taking off his knapsack and producing a small white towel. He wiped her face, her hands and neck. He paused at removing her clothes although she was most certainly bloody beneath them. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Sasaki-kun, you need to leave the room for a moment."

Kei could not move. "How did you—" he began, but was cut off.

"Know your name? Kuchiki-taichou told me in her message. She said you might be a little upset, aside from being injured. That's why I'm here. I can give you a sedative, if you want one."

"N-no," Kei said. "I'm fine. Can I come back in when you're finished?"

The small man had not even turned to face him. "Yes," he said. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

As it turned out, Kei was left pacing outside for barely a few moments when Hanatarou slid the door back. "She's awake and asking for you."

Kei was at her side before he'd even known his feet had moved. He knelt close, inhaling her newly clean smell and letting the relief wash over him. It was the Rukia he had met that first night. Not the one who was lying to him, not the one who reveled in a bloody fight.

"Sorry to have scared you, kid," she said in a low, soft voice. "I'll be good as new tomorrow."

He could only smile at her. "It's okay. I'm just so glad—" his hand was gripping hers.

"Kei. Calm down or I'll make Hanatarou give you a sedative."

"He already offered."

"Did you take it?"

"No," he admitted, looking at his hand where it had begun to knot with hers. "Rukia—" he leaned closer without knowing why and kissed her forehead. "don't die on me, okay?"

She smiled a little. "I won't. I promise."

His lungs hurt him at that point. He had so many more things he wanted to say, so many! But he could not get them out. It was just as well. Her eyes fluttered shut, she took a few deep breaths, and was still.

Kei's heart skipped a beat—okay, several beats. "Oh my god," he managed to choke out. "Did she. . ."

Hanatarou, who had watched the scene in silence, looked him up and down. A shadow passed over his face, brief but clear. "Sasaki Kei. She is fine. She just needs rest." He rose, clearing his throat. "And you need to eat. Come with me, there must be something in the kitchen I can cook for you."

Kei did not move.

"She's only sleeping," Hanatarou said. "She'd want you to take care of yourself."

Kei sighed, rose and followed him out.

There were only three chairs at the kitchen table. Kei found this odd but did not comment; he'd seen things much stranger in the past couple of days. Hanatarou hummed to himself as he dug in the cupboards. Finding only a cup of instant ramen, he sighed and made his way to the sink. As the water ran, he turned, arms crossed, and examined Kei again. "Are you sore at all?"

"No," Kei said, slumping a little in his chair. "Whatever you did, thank you."

Hanatarou nodded.

"Are you—a doctor?"

The other man chuckled. "No, more along the lines of an advanced medic. It's my job to heal shinigami that are wounded in battle."

"Shinigami." The word rolled oddly over Kei's tongue. "What Rukia is. . . not like—a kind of guardian angel?"

Hanatarou smiled. "I guess you could look at it that way. It is a shinigami's responsibility to look after souls."

"But I'm alive." He knew all of this already. She had told him. But it was merely information she had given him in passing. Now he knew it was something deeper than just words. Possibly something darker. This was outside of her normal duties. She was risking her life for him even though it was not her job.

"That's not right. The souls we look after are both dead and alive. But typically it's a random business. For her own reasons, she has sworn to protect you."

"That doesn't really explain anything."

"Sasaki-kun, I'm sorry but the less you know, the better. Kuchiki-taichou is complex and I admit I don't understand all of her motivations. But please believe she has your best interest at heart."

"Taichou—is she a commander or something?" His guardian angel happened to be a higher-up. Oh, the irony.

"She is the captain of the thirteenth division of protection squads." Hanatarou had already turned back to the sink and was filling a pan. "She has held that position for the last five years, and has served the protection squads for at least fifty as a lesser officer."

Kei blinked. "She doesn't look that old."

"Shinigami are slow to age. I am at least five times older.."

"Are you a captain too?"

At that inquiry, Hanatarou laughed outright. "Oh, no. It is not an honor I hope to attain. My own captain will probably be at her post for years after I finally retire."

"Are the captains all women?"

"There are more now than there once were, but no. Kuchiki-taichou is one of three." By this time, the pan was on the stove and Hanatarou had settled into the chair across from him.

The impromptu lesson tapered off here, and Kei began to fidget. Hanatarou was right. The additional information only confused him more. But then he remembered something. "The way you looked at me before—did I say something that offended you?"

"Not at all. I was just reminded of something." Hanatarou's hands were flat on the tabletop. Small, chapped and strangely asexual. The nails were neat and clean and there seemed to be no hair on his knuckles. He looked to the stove. "The water is boiling. Do you want any salt?"

After the meal Kei went straight back to Rukia. She opened her eyes a little as he dragged out another mat and set it close to her. "Kei," she said, her voice low but strong.

"I'm here," he said.

"You ate?"

"Yes. Just some ramen."

"Well," she yawned. "Better than nothing."

He stretched out on the mat and rolled onto his side to face her. "Thank you," he said.

She was on her back, completely still as if devoting ever drop of her energy to healing. "You don't need to thank me," she said finally.

Kei nodded, but his mind was racing. He reached cautiously and touched her wrist. "I just wanted you to know." Every nerve in his body was aware of her, drawn to her. He inched closer, fingers running lightly through her hair. Her lips were parted now, her breath light. He blinked and swallowed, swallowed again. Before he could kiss her, he felt the heel of her hand on his chest, holding him away. She gazed up at him. "Kei—we're not like that." There was something indescribable in her eyes.

He could only blink and move away, lay back down on his mat. He could not even think of what she meant before sleep snatched him up.

* * *

When he awoke it was still dark. It was stormy outside; the tinny sound of rain hitting the roof permeated the room. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The mat beside him where Rukia had lain was empty. Hanatarou was nowhere to be seen. He stifled a yawn as he strained to listen for the restless footsteps he had come to know so well.

Instead, he heard voices. He rose slowly, slid the door aside as quietly as he could, and stepped out into the wide and open hallway. Near the door, two figures stood close together. A small form that could only be Rukia's, and a taller, slender form with spiky hair that glinted orange in the wake of lightening. ". . .what you've been doing. I never thought in a million years you could be so reckless," the man's voice said.

"I left word. It's not like I just disappeared without saying anything," Rukia murmured. There was something in her voice Kei did not recognize, had never heard there. Regret? Guilt? He edged closer.

"You might as well have. Your brother is furious, and so is Renji."

"And you?"

"Rukia, you know I'd stand with you through anything. What kills me is that you insist on making things hard on yourself like this. You haven't changed in twenty years." It seemed as if the words the man was saying should be calm, but they were tense, angry. "All this time and you've never really let me in."

"Don't you dare. Don't you _dare_ say that. Every part of me is as good as yours and you know it. If you knew me, you'd understand why this is so important."

"I know you. I know the facts. But I don't know why you're acting this way. He would have been protected, with or without you. You didn't need to take off in the middle of the night on some babysitting mission."

"It's not babysitting. You know how I got here. Do you think anything less than a captain would have been able to keep him alive this far?"

"If you knew it was something that needed a captain, that's all the more reason for you have told me! I would have—"

"You would have come with me." Her head was bowed; the lightning was flashing just enough to expose the hard set of her expression. "Ichigo, I don't want you to carry this with me. This is mine. I'll handle it and I'll come home."

"Oh no you don't. You have no right to play the martyr here. He's alive to begin with because of you. He was supposed to die, body and soul. And you, of all people, wouldn't let justice run its course. Tell me why, Rukia. I want to hear it in your voice, not from anyone else. If you die here, I can at least tell myself I know the truth."

"I saved Gin," she began and stopped, taking a deep breath. When she began again her voice was stronger, more determined. "I saved Gin to save myself. No matter what happens, Kei has to live. I _swore_ it. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"You're not making any sense. That bastard didn't have anything on you to deserve your mercy. He tortured you. _Raped_ you. You should be the _last_ one worried about what happens to his soul."

"But he did have something on me. He _was _me. All the things he was, they were terrible, and with a couple of wrong turns that would have been me. It's why we were drawn to each other, you know. He toyed with me from the moment he met me because he knew if he worked at it hard enough he could push me over the edge. And for a minute, I wanted him to. Then I finally woke up and knew that if he could be saved, so could I." She was choking just a little, leaning forward. The man moved close, almost instinctively, until she was held up by his broad chest. His hand was in her hair.

"Rukia. . ."

She sniffed, pushed away, snapped shut. "Once I get him to Urahara, we should be able to find a way to neutralize his reiatsu. He'll be safe, I'll send him home, and I'll come home, too."

The man sighed. "You're determined to go it alone."

"It's better this way."

Silence, then the shuffling sound of the man moving toward the door. He does not turn to speak his final words to her face. "Rukia. Come home alive."

And then she was alone in the doorway. As Kei slunk back to the room, he knew he was shaking as much as she was. And he finally knew why.

* * *

**A/N:** Whew.


End file.
